Tag Archives: fiction

It is an exciting day! Today I get to share the first glimpse into the second book in the Heaven and Earth series. GK Sihat was kind enough to host the cover reveal for Dwelling in Heaven and Earth, due for release in July, 2017. Head on over to her website and check it out!

Simone Fitzgerald battles for a normal life against voices no one else hears. She seems to be succeeding, until an angel appears, asking her to embrace the voices as a gift and stand as The Prophet.

When demons mobilize the beings of legend against mankind, Divine Wrath burns hot against creation. Simone must find the strength to embrace The Light and bring peace to the universe, but she may be crushed under the weight of the burden she’s been asked to bear.

Follow an epic journey that takes the earth you know through a time when fairy tale creatures rule and into realms undreamed of.

Are you, too, seeking to save the earth, promote world peace and raise productive citizens without expending too much effort?

Why not follow LazyHippieMama onTwitter or Facebook to get all the updates.

If we work on our goals together, they may be a little easier to achieve!

Want to REALLY know what my busy typing fingers have been working on lately? Visit my author page for oodles of short stories and all the latest info on the Heaven And Earth Series!

*This post is Day Fifteen of the January Nablopomo 30-day blogging challenge hosted by BlogHer.

I simply couldn’t pass up a prompt asking which book I would choose if I had to read just one, year after year.

I read a lot. Books and magazines, websites, fiction and non-fiction, any genre, any time-period. Right now I’m reading The Fifteen Invaluable Laws of Growth, The Power of Positive Thinking, Jitterbug Perfume, Treasure Island and, if you count book studies/devotionals, Jesus Calling and Fingerprints of God. I don’t really watch TV. Who has time for that?!

When it comes to favorites, though, I love great fiction that sucks me in and challenges the way I see the world. If it challenges my spirituality that’s even better. How can I ever have true faith if no one ever questions what I believe, right? If a book teaches me something new about history or current events, geography or science that’s… like the hat trick of book scoring in my world. Anne Rice, Jan Karon, Stephen King, Dan Brown, Barbara Kingsolver and James Mitchner have all written books that have shaped the way I view life and the way I live it. I can only hope to write something a fraction as powerful and insightful and beautiful as some of the prose those amazing authors have published!

I have shelves and boxes full of favorites books that I just can’t seem to part with. They’re like dear friends. How can I send them away?

Having said all of that, there is one book that I love more than all the others. If I was forced to pick just one book to read over and over again it would be One Door Away From Heaven by Dean Koontz.

Click on the picture to buy the book. It’s not an affiliate link or anything. I just think everyone should read this book.

It’s a fun and exciting read. In typical Koontz style it’s a bit creepy and a bit mysterious. There’s an awesomely lovable dog and a hopeful ending. It’s a fun read. It’s funny. It’s exciting. It’s a page turner. But there are thousands of fun, page-turners out there. This one is special. It makes me wonder how big our world really is. It makes me curious about what’s behind the public face of the people I encounter. It taught me about a school of thought that I had not heard of before reading it and, in learning that such a philosophy existed I became motivated to educate myself further and I feel like I’m a better person for knowing what I now know. Maybe my family is a bit safer because of my knowledge as well. At least, I like to think so. The book encourages me and fills me with hope. It makes me want to be a little bit of a badass with a really big heart. I’ll always be more like Donella on the outside, but perhaps a Spelkenfeld lives in my heart. Again, I like to think so. (Trust me, if you read the book, that sentence will make sense.)

There is a character in the book who is fairly cracked, mentally, that keeps reading the same book over and over to be sure that she gets every tiny tidbit of meaning out of it. I am aware that I’m confessing to doing the same thing but I like to think I’m only a little mentally cracked. I mean, that’s… like… the ONLY book she reads. As I’ve said, that’s not the case with me. Plus I rarely ingest massive amounts of hallucinogenic drugs and tequila on the same day. JUST KIDDING, MOM!

How about you? If you had to read just one book, year after year, what would you choose?

Are you, too, seeking to save the earth, promote world peace and raise productive citizens without expending too much effort?

Why not follow LazyHippieMama on WordPress, by email or Facebook to get all the updates.

If we work on our goals together, they may be a little easier to achieve!

If you enjoyed my blog, it would mean a lot to me if you’d toss me a vote by clicking the Top Mommy Blog banner. Thanks!

*This post is Day Four of the January Nablopomo 30-day blogging challenge hosted by BlogHer.

I have shared several times about the process of working on my book, but I haven’t shared much of the actual story. Here’s a little snippet that I’ve been editing. I’mlooking forward to having the finished product published and selling like hotcakes later in 2015! I’ve had trouble coming up with a title, though. I’m open to ideas!

“I just keep thinking that it can’t be that bad.” I paused, trying to find the words to explain exactly what I meant. “The world can be an ugly place. You would have to be blind to not notice that people have made a terrible mess of things. We don’t take care of our planet like we should. We don’t take care of each other like we should. We need to do better at helping those who can’t help themselves. We can be cruel to one another. We are greedy and selfish. We do bad things to each other every day.”

“But…” he prompted.

“But it’s not all like that!” I declared. This is what I kept coming back to. “There are food pantries where people give their time and money to feed the hungry. There are teachers who would – who do – die to protect their students. And hospice workers who sit for hours and hours with the dying and their families, just to offer them some comfort. There is so much good in the world! And hasn’t it always been that way? Hasn’t there always been lots of good and lots of bad, all mixed together? At least, ever since Eve ate the apple or whatever it was that happened back then?”

“I suspect you’re right,” Michael agreed.

“So… then… why now? What has tipped the scales to create this mess where the human race is at risk of being wiped off the face of the earth? What has our generation done that is so much more terrible than the generation that invented the atomic bomb? Or the generation that fought the crusades? Or the generation that dreamed up the Coliseum and sold little children for sexual pleasure to the grown men who came to watch their fellow humans be slaughtered for entertainment?”

We were both quiet for a moment, pondering history as we understood it. When viewed in retrospect the horrors of humanity were many and every generation was guilty. I wasn’t sure what else to say and Michael was obviously processing my question. One of the things I loved about him was that he was always thoughtful in his speech. He wasn’t really a quiet man but he never wasted his words. “Maybe it’s not about that.” He said finally. Maybe it’s not about what we are all doing with ourselves so much as why we are doing it. Maybe there is something in our hearts now, some guiding thought process, that is different than it was in the past.

I considered that. “Maybe. But don’t our actions usually mirror our hearts?”

“I think so. But I also think, sometimes, it takes time for outward appearances to show a true image of the inner workings of a man. I think every person, in every culture, in every era, has some concept of what “right” should look like. Well… I mean… there are always some people who are just broken – you know? The Hannibal Lectors of the world. But everyone else, everyone “normal,” is born with a sense of right and wrong. Some things seem negotiable. Spanking a child may be deemed right by one culture in one time and wrong in another. But beating a child is understood to be wrong by everyone, everywhere, in every time period.”

“Some cultures let a man beat his kids without repercussion,” I argued.

“True, but no society ever says, ‘look at that big strong, brave guy who just nobly beat the crap out of that toddler.’ Maybe they allow it, but they don’t applaud it. All people seem to know there’s just something wrong in harming a child. What if there is some sort of prevailing attitude in our world today that will lead us into a time when that little voice is silenced completely? It would take a generation or two or three or ten before the entirety, or even the majority, of society had ‘gone over’ but it would have to start somewhere. What if we are nearing some sort of tipping point?”

“What is it, though? What is so broken in us that wasn’t in our great grandparents?”

I don’t know.” He shrugged and rolled his eyes dramatically. “It’s not like I’m the one who sits around talking to angels.”

I gave him my best skunk eye and he held up his hands in surrender, an adorably charming smile dancing, just behind his eyes. “Tell you what. The maniacs in the other room are a constant distraction for a woman tasked with saving the species. Why don’t I take them today? We’ll go to the bouncy place and I’ll lock them in the inflatable room and let them work all that energy out and you can go chant in a cave or something and see if you can’t think this through. Just be home in time for dinner. I’m thinking we need to order Chinese and I don’t want to be here alone when Ike goes for the sweet and sour sauce head first.

I often marveled at how much I loved him. “It sounds perfect. I know exactly what I need to do.” And, suddenly, I did, though there was neither chanting nor a cave involved. As soon as the offer of a quiet kid-free day was held up in front of me I had a plan.

I helped Michael get the boys into shoes and out the door and then headed off to the mall.

It was a forty minute drive to my favorite mall. Some days forty minutes seemed to be forever but on that day I ejected the CD of endlessly looping “Learn With Mickey Mouse” songs, turned on my favorite “best of the 80’s” station and sang at the top of my voice, enjoying every minute of the rare solitude I’d been granted. The sheer volume at which Prince and Michael Jackson belted out their hits assured that I didn’t hear anything other than the music, either in my head or with my ears. I parked in the Macy’s parking garage and headed in through the sliding glass doors. My plan was simple. I would plant myself in the middle of a sea of people. I would wander the halls and sit in the the center court and I would listen and watch. I was going to observe my fellow man as objectively as I could.

I turned right and moseyed through the Juniors department where a little group of gorgeous, college-aged girls were picking through the clearance racks. “What do you think of this one?” one of them asked. Another glanced up from behind the rounder. “It’s gorgeous! Can you afford it?”

“Who cares? I can’t afford any of this. That’s what credit cards were invented for!”They all laughed and agreed with her.

I walked on and found a tired-looking mother and her obviously unhappy son in the boy’s department. “Do you like the blue shirt or the red shirt?”

The boy shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Well… dinosaurs or guitars?”

“Whatever.”

“So I should just get the cheapest thing I can find and you’ll wear it no matter what, right?”

“I dunno.”

The mom looked like she was on the verge of tears and I felt her pain. I’d had similar conversations with Donovan.

In the cavernous, echoing hallway outside the store a group of silver-haired ladies in red hats bustled along in a little cluster. One of them was telling a story making great sweeping gestures with her right hand that, once or twice, came perilously close to her companion’s face, and carrying an arm full of large paper shopping bags from some of the pricier stores with her left hand. “So I told them, of course, that they simply can’t expect a poor old woman like me, living on a fixed income, to give to every charity that knocks on the door. Those people need to stop trying to take everything they can from old ladies like me and get a job! If they can afford their fancy phones, they can afford to buy milk and diapers for their own babies!”

The old women passed a young mom tossing pennies in the fountain with her children. “The polar bears eat the coins?” The little girl asked.

“No, baby. The people from the zoo come and get the coins and they use them to buy food and other things the polar bears need.”

“Why don’t they just let them live at the North Pole?”

“Well…” the mom hesitated, obviously sensing that this was one of those conversations which was going to stretch into an endless series of questions that would quickly become totally unanswerable. “The weather is changing at the North Pole. Some people think that it’s a good idea for us to protect some of the bears in zoos so that, no matter what happens at the north pole a few of the bears will always be safe.”

“Why is the weather changing?”

“I don”t know,” she answered. “It’s just one of those things that happen. Come on now. It’s almost story time. We don’t want to miss it!” She turned and tossed her styrofoam cup, still half full, into the plastic-lined bin, strapped the younger child into a plastic stroller, and handed each of the little ones a disposable foil juice pouch and they hurried off down the hall.

“What if your manager finds out?” Asked a young man talking to a girl working at one of the kiosks in the middle of the hall where they sold fun-colored covers for electronic devices. His whole attention as focused on her and he was grinning. Everything about him brought to mind the image of a puppy.

“Nobody cares. It’s just one little thing.”

I walked on and listened and a very clear pattern began to emerge. Young people and old, richly dressed and poorly attired, mothers, children, men, women, happy, angry, tired, working, shopping: they were all saying the same things.

“I don’t care.”

“I’m bored.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Of course, there were endless variations on these but, over and over again they were echoed. In almost every snippet of conversation I could catch I heard some form of the same thing. For some it was as simple as, “I don’t care where we have lunch, you pick.” For others it seemed nearly desperate. “Nothing matters in my life.”

These people weren’t doing anything inherently bad (except maybe the girl at the electronic cover place. I’m pretty sure she was ripping off her employer.). They were just living their lives. But that’s all they were doing. Just living… existing. They had no passion or direction or fire. A Bible verse I’d learned as a little child came to me. “So, because you are lukewarm – neither hot nor cold – I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”

Was it possible that we had become an entire society of people who were lukewarm? Was that the problem? Had we danced, so long, upon that fine line in the middle that we’d become a broken people, unable to care passionately about anything?I considered history. Whose name had been remembered? Ghangis Khan, Alexander the Great, Joan of Arc, Cleopatra, DaVinci, Shakespeare, Columbus, Napoleon, Salk, Hitler, Churchill, Ford, Gandhi… these were men and women whose names had lived on far beyond their years. Some of them had been judged bad and others good. Most were thought to be mad by their contemporaries. But whatever you thought about what they had done they had been men and women of action and of immense passion. They cared. They were never lukewarm. And they propelled the human race forward in all sorts of ways through their zeal.

What could be accomplished by a society that completely lacked passion, belief or conviction? What would happen if that lack of passion was touted as freedom and sold as a bill of goods to al the people in the entire world?

What would happen if even the angels began to buy into the philosophy that we shouldn’t care about or speak up for or against anything beyond those issues that directly affect us?

I shivered. Suddenly, more than anything in the world, I wanted to be home with my husband and children again.

Are you, too, seeking to save the earth, promote world peace and raise productive citizens without expending too much effort?

Why not follow LazyHippieMama on WordPress, by email or Facebook to get all the updates.

If we work on our goals together, they may be a little easier to achieve!

If you enjoyed my blog, it would mean a lot to me if you’d toss me a vote by clicking the Top Mommy Blog banner. Thanks!

Last November was life-changing for me. My dreams and goals took a whole new turn. My confidence in my own ability to accomplish something huge was strengthened in a big way. I pushed myself physically and mentally further than I had in years – and discovered (remembered?) that there’s something very satisfying in that. I found a very special way to connect with both of my daughters. November became my favorite month of the year.

November = Nanowrimo!

All of that came about when I discovered Nanowrimo: National Novel Writer’s Month.

I had vaguely heard about this idea the year before but I was a new blogger in a swirling sea of terms and language that was unfamiliar to me. Last year I dug a little deeper and found out it works like this: There is a website; Nanowrimo.org, where you sign up to participate. You can plan and conceptualize all you want, but you’re not supposed to start your actual manuscript until November 1. Then, you have from 12:01am on the 1st until midnight on the 30th to write 50,000 words. Everyone who hits 50,000 wins! Prizes are, for the most part, things like free or discounted editing or graphic art help from well-respected professionals.

That’s it. Easy as pie, right?

I agonized. I’d been cooking up a book for just about as long as I had the ability to string a sentence together. I would start to write. I’d finish a chapter. I’d edit it. I’d write chapter 2. I’d go back and edit chapter 1. Then chapter 2 didn’t quite fit right any more so I’d re-write it. By the time I got to chapter 3 I couldn’t remember how chapter 1 went. I’m not sure I ever got past chapter 3.

What if I signed up for this and couldn’t do it? What if I did it and my book was terrible?

My husband, in his wisdom said, “What if? Who cares?”

Good point. If I failed, I failed. This is not the equivalent of failing at walking a tight rope over the Grand Canyon. If, at the end of November I had only written 25,000 words of garbage… well… so what?

But what if I could actually do it?

That urge to go back and edit is the downfall of untold numbers of wannabe novelists. It’s impossible to get to the end because you can’t get the beginning exactly perfect. Nanowrimo is the cure for perfectionism.

In order to keep on-pace you need to finish 1600-1700 words every single day for a month. Lord have mercy on your soul if you, like me, start late or miss a few days in the middle. There is no time to spell check or re-consider whether or not the previous chapter creates a hole in your timeline. It’s a sprint to the finish. Don’t look back. Just run as fast as you can. Keep writing. Did you change tenses in the middle of your story? Don’t worry about it. Just keep running. Did your main character just switch ethnicity? Gender? Acquire a new name? Just keep writing. Go, man, go. Write like the wind!

It was totally and utterly exhausting. It sucked every bit of thinking power from my mind and I was consumed and obsessed with constant thoughts of my story world and what was going to happen next.

It was wonderful!

Last year, after throwing all my fears to the wind and jumping into the already boiling Nanowrimo waters on November 6, I wrote like I’d never written before. If I got stuck I just skipped that scene and went on. I wrote and wrote and wrote and then I wrote a little more and, with HOURS to spare, I hit the 50,000 word mark! About 10,000 words after that I finished my book.

It was a mess. A few friends said they wanted to read it. No way! I wasn’t sure it would even be comprehensible! But it was done. Beginning, middle and end, all strung together in a row.

I DID IT!

Just as good, or maybe even better, is that both of my daughters did it with me! There is a Nanowrimo Young Writer’s Edition that they signed up for. One finished and one didn’t but I was so proud of both of them and awed by their creativity.

It took every bit of the year since then to edit and re-write and edit and correct and re-write again that heap of words but, because the ENTIRE foundation had been laid out, editing was a much smoother project. I could fix the issues in chapter 1, knowing what was going to happen in chapter 8. Just last week I put the manuscript in the hands of a major literary agent for the first time. That’s still a long way from seeing it on the shelf at Barnes and Nobel but… you know what? I think it may actually get there some day!

And now we are just one week away from the beginning of November again!

Only 7 more days until Nanowrimo!

No late start for me, this year. I’m standing at the gate with my outline in hand. Book 2 is leaking out of my pores. My characters need to live the next part of their story!

If you have a story itching to be told, I can’t encourage you enough to go sign up. Nanowrimo isn’t an editing system or a writing tool – it’s more like…

Picture a major marathon. There are people lining the streets cheering the runners on, providing support and encouragement to get them over those tough hills. There are little stations for the runners to get a drink of water. There’s a festive finish-line to strive toward. And there are hundreds of other runners on the track with you as you run.

The difference between trying to run 26 miles entirely on your own and trying to do it with the encouragement and accountability of that official marathon structure is the difference between writing on your own or writing as part of Nano. Something about knowing that others are striving alongside you and having a goal to reach for just makes the whole thing easier and more fun.

Sign up!

Go on!

Just do it!

If you want to be writing buddies, look me up on the Nano site and I’ll cheer for you all month long.

Are you, too, seeking to save the earth, promote world peace and raise productive citizens without expending too much effort?

Why not follow LazyHippieMama on WordPress, by email or Facebook to get all the updates.

If we work on our goals together, they may be a little easier to achieve!

If you enjoyed my blog, it would mean a lot to me if you’d toss me a vote by clicking the banner, above. Thanks!

*This post contains affiliate links. If you click on these links and purchase the items I may receive a small commission.

If you’re looking for a great new chapter book series for your young reader to enjoy this summer I have just the ticket…

There is a blogger I love more than any other. My totally unbiased opinion is that she is clever and brilliant and talented as well as adorably cute. Yes, she’s my 9-year-old daughter, but I promise, she’s all those other things, too.

SHD got so totally sucked into this book that I literally had to go into her room and remove her e-reader so that she could fall asleep! When she was done she wrote a shining review of it on her blog. Below are a few of the excerpts from her post:

So this book is really great. It’s wonderful and fun (and not to mention, REALLY addicting) for fourth graders like me.

I would recommend this book to everybody who can read pretty well. It has lots of intense parts and you have to use your imagination in it. I think that Julia Suzuki should keep on writing all she can. She is a really great author and I want her to be known to the world.

It would mean the world to her if you popped over to read her whole post and say hello in the comments. She’s on a personal mission to make sure every child reads The Gift of Charms this summer!

The book really is wonderful. It is colorful and imaginative in the way of the old fairy tales we all love and challenging enough to engage a child’s busy mind.

My hope was to be ahead of the curve instead of racing right along at pace but, if you know me at all, you know that I tend to be the one who comes busting in the door for the 10:00 meeting at 9:59 and 59 seconds, breathless and disheveled. (OK. I confess. Some days I’m lucky to make an appearance before the meeting adjourns.) My Nanowrimo experience hasn’t been any different. Read Part 1 of the journey, here. Each day I tell myself I’m going to get ahead so that I can relax just a little but so far I’m racing to keep up and falling into bed completely exhausted. By brain feels slightly mushy.

That said, here we are on November 15 – exactly halfway through the month and I am very happy… ecstatic… thrilled… and, yes, more than a little bit proud…. to say that I am currently at 25, 046 words. Hooray! I am not ahead of the curve but I am not behind, either. I’m halfway to 50,000 with half a month to go.

Sweet Hippie Daughter is well on her way too. I’ve been blown away by her writing! At 9 years old she has written 4 chapters of a story that is witty and clever and full of surprises and lovable characters. If I had to lay money on which of us will be a best-selling author first my bet would be with her.

Not-so-Hippie Teenager is keeping her book under tightly under wraps so far but I don’t doubt for a second she’s making good progress. Creativity pours out of that girl every second of the day.

I mentioned before that my book isn’t much like my blog. Same ideas – peace & love, man – totally different tone. If you want to know more, feel free to read on. It would mean so much to me if you’d let me know what you think and leave a suggestion or two. Unless you totally hate it. I’m not ready to hear that just yet.

“…in ages long past, there was no veil and the inhabitants of the worlds were free to move as they would. Some had been in their place for age upon age and had no desire to move about. I’m not even sure they retained the ability to desire at all. They are The Unchanging. They have stood so close, for so long, to That Which Is that to gaze upon them would be destruction.”

“Even for you?” I asked.

“Yes. For any being unlike themselves,” he shrugged. “They are as they are and ever more will be. Their function is well served in the Great Scheme.

Others explored, but found the worlds unsatisfactory. They were not at ease with things outside of the realms in which they were destined to dwell. These have not actively interacted with man and they never will. It is not their way.

Most of us, however, moved about, between, with comfort and ease and delight. That Which Is had declared it all Good and we agreed. Each realm held its own allure, each different from the others and, together, complete.

But some became obsessed with the world of man, which moves in its own way. There is a slow grace and a solid beauty that is very different from anything that had existed before the age of this world. Man dwelt in this world and we were amazed that The Image could be reflected, in this new way.”

He lay his hand on my arm and I saw the unfolding of all he had told me and more. In a time before time, I saw beings of light and movement and energy. There was a vast brightness, but no color at all. I saw beings of pure consciousness and beings made entirely of emotion and beings of nothing but sound. They moved about, among one another in a space more vast than my mind could comprehend. There were groups of beings that were alike that would move with the harmony I’d seen in a flock of birds, arching together through the sky. There were beings who would cross paths with one another and extraordinary patterns of sound and light would result. They could do this over and again for millennia for no reason other than the sheer joy of it. There were beings that appeared to be massive creatures but, when viewed more closely were actually dozens of smaller entities, moving as one. No darkness or shadow existed anywhere. The light came from every angle and every being moved within the light and between the worlds in perfect comfort.

And then, In the midst of all this, I saw a man and a woman. They were solid and clearly defined, yet their every word and action, indeed their very thoughts, created waves of energy that rippled out from them and moved through all the other, less physical, worlds, even to those most distant heights where only The Unchanging dwelt, singing their unending song.

The man and the woman moved around a fire, preparing a meal. They were short and heavy-boned, primitive, dirty and very different from modern humans but still clearly human.

The woman glanced at the man. She felt the tools in her hands and she cherished them, for they were made for her by this man, whom she loved and I watched as her love, a powerful deep blue sea of emotion, poured forth from her into all the realms, wrenching the other beings from their own distractions and drawing their attention. From each being touched by these waves of pure love, new ripples of deep blue were drawn and sent forth, and these touched others until the whole universe… every world in every realm was glowing with the woman’s love, magnified a million times over, through the beings with whom it had come in contact.

The woman bent forward to attend to the fire and the man felt a rush of hot red desire for her. The desire raced through the worlds creating a split second of chaos in every being that was in its path. Desire rippled out from them to others in powerful, crushing waves. He came next to her and touched her and she responded to him. Man and woman became one flesh, united, and when they cried out their pleasure, the groans echoed through all the realms. Then, from their union, came new life.

This new life was unlike the new life brought forth by other species. This life issued forth from the woman with blood and water and, even before its first breath this tiny being was pouring into all of creation its own waves of intention and desire. The beings of the other realms were enthralled. No such thing had ever been seen in all the many ages.

The people developed language and their words gave even greater power and shape to the colors that flowed endlessly, effortlessly from them. Even in its earliest, most rudimentary form, language, spoken with great intent, could draw forth matter and affect change in both the spiritual and physical realms.

Every being that had ever been created stood in awe of Man. Nothing in the universe – in any of the universes – remained unchanged. Color and texture filled everything. What had once shone brightly with the radiant beauty of pure white light was now filled with a rainbow symphony of a thousand colors.

The people, these finite beings who were smaller, weaker, more solid and more defined of form than any that came before them held a power that had never before been seen outside of That Which Is. They could Imagine and Create just like That Which Is. Some of the others, having been touched by this power of creation, began to crave it and draw nearer and nearer in the way of moths being drawn toward the warmth and light of a bright flame. They, too, longed to create, to change, and to affect the universe. They longed to have flesh that cried out in pleasure and pain. They desired the warmth of blood in their veins. They wanted to know hunger and pleasure, sex and death and birth. They became consumed with their desire… with their envy. They were no longer content in their place.

Oddly, the people didn’t understand their own power. As the universe stood in wonder of them, so they bowed in humility to every aspect of the universe. Every being that strode the earth found humans willing to worship it. And the others did stride upon the earth with ever-increasing frequency.

They came to the people. They drew matter to themselves and they ate and drank and made love. They were worshipped as gods and revered for their knowledge and abilities. They felt the matter die and knew release from it. But, after being released, they were changed. They were something different from what had been created and they could never again become what they had once been.

A new kind of children were born from the union of men and others. They were children with the power of man, on a lesser scale, but also with the power of others, likewise lessened. These children, themselves made new children unlike anything created by That Which Is. They became known as the legends and the myths. They were giants and fairies, vampires, shape-shifters, centaurs, horned men, water dwellers, winged women, trolls, goblins and more.

The colors, having spread through all the universe, began to become muddled and unclear. The colors blended and made new shades… both lighter and darker. In some corners of some realms there was total blackness now. The Light that Illuminates was no longer reflected there. It was no longer welcome…

Are you, too, seeking to save the earth, promote world peace and raise productive citizens without expending too much effort?

Why not follow LazyHippieMama by email, Facebook or Twitter to get all the updates?

If we work on our goals together, they may be a little easier to achieve!

About a year ago I was a new blogger when, all of a sudden, this weird word popped up all over the place. People were, “doing Nanowrimo.” They were, “Official Nanowrimo Participants.” They were on Facebook at 2am sobbing over their “Nanowrimo project.”

It was a little terrifying.

Was it a cult? A new blogging law? What?!

It turns out Nanowrimo stands for National Novel Writer’s Month.

Nanowrimo.org organizes the event and writers can sign up for free. There are support forums and write-in events and online chats. The goal is to write a 50,000+ word novel in the month of November.

The website tracks your progress and offers encouragement and, if you “win” (hit the 50,000 word mark) you get… uhm…. I don’t know exactly. I suppose you get to have a finished novel! Or at least 50,000 words worth of very rough draft.

Nanowrimo 2012 came and went and I didn’t give it another thought. But then… sometime in October I saw that first badge go up on someone’s blog.

Oh, no! It’s coming!

A few people tweeted about it.

Not me. Nope. Not going to do it.

More badges went up.

My site remained badge free.

Though I would love to publish a novel, there were several reasons why I had convinced myself that I didn’t want to participate in Nanowrimo. It was too much pressure. I wasn’t ready to share my story idea with the world. I don’t have time this month. I can’t finish my whole book in 4 weeks!

But the truth is I am ready. I think about this story all the time. It is oozing out of me in line at the grocery store and while I’m getting Toddler-saurus Rex dressed in the morning. It distracts me when I’m trying to listen to a good radio talk show or focus on a new recipe for dinner. I was actually crying for one of the characters (a fictional character that hasn’t even been written about yet! I need help.) not long ago, when I realized he was going to die. The story needs to come out now.

And there really is no pressure. There is accountability and encouragement. The writing police aren’t going to break my door down if I take 3 days off over Thanksgiving (though I’m already thinking I’ll be in far too deep by then to take time off!) or only have 32,641 words written on December 1. This is just a way to get, and stay, motivated, track progress, and connect with community.

Certainly, there will never be time. Who has time to do anything? Somehow, though, when something is important to us, we manage to squeeze it in. Maybe there will be a little less sleep this month or possibly *gasp* I’ll have to scroll through Facebook a little less often. I’ll find some time.

It’s not about finishing. It’s about giving one month of truly concentrated, intentional effort toward the end goal of getting it finished. Again, there are no writing police. I hope.

The truth is I’m just scared spitless.

My story is weird and I know that. I want it to say one thing, but it’s possible it could be interpreted as something else if I don’t choose my words just right.

And what if I pour all of this out of me and people just completely hate it? Or worse… not a single soul reads it?

So October came and went and then it was November 1st and I said, “Oh, well. Too late now. Maybe next year.”

But sometimes God pesters me when He wants me to do something.

I’ve learned in the past that when I realize He is asking a specific task of me I have two choices. I can do it right away and be richly blessed or I can wait until life forces me, through a series of (usually unpleasant) circumstances, to do it later.

I really don’t want to end up in a body cast, being able to do nothing but move my typing fingers, so I finally agreed to come out of the closet as a wanna-be novelist and I registered for Nanowrimo 2013.

This looks like a nice bandwagon. I think I’ll jump on!

Some bloggers have pledged to post bits of their books and their progress every day. I’m not going to do that. I’ll probably put a few snippets out there over the course of the month. Maybe I’ll toss out a word count here and there.

If you love what I share, or find it intriguing and it makes you want to read more, please oh please oh please tell me!

If you think what you read has potential to be interesting but needs a little something I am absolutely open to suggestions. A big part of Nanowrimo, for me, is the opportunity to get some input from others.

If it baffles you, that’s OK. Tell me that, too, please.

If you hate it, I don’t want to know. Seriously. Just call me George McFly.

The novel is very much on the same themes as this blog but it’s…. different. Very different. It’s fairly dark, but hopefully not overwhelmingly so. It isn’t exactly fantasy but it’s certainly not exactly reality either (I don’t think). Maybe, by the end of the month, I’ll be able to say more precisely what it is! Here’s hoping.

Anyway… here’s a taste of what’s been cooking in my brain for… oh…. the past 20 years or so. I hope you like it. Or, at least I hope you don’t hate it.

“Do you hear?” He asked again

To my own great surprise I wasn’t just ready to hear. I longed to hear. I ached for it. I needed to hear. With perfect confidence I understood that I had never been ill at all. In that moment, I accepted what I had always known, deep inside: That the voices were real. “Yes. I am listening. Tell me.”

“Most men hear only their fellow man, and even that is inconsistent and fallible. You are able to hear other men but also those who are not men. You are able to hear those who dwell in the shadows. You are able to hear through the veil that has been drawn. Those on the other side of the veil are interwoven with the human life on this side. It is not another place, removed, but another space, entwined. That is why many sound so near, so often. Listen.”

I could hear them – voices speaking, laughing, crying, singing. They were an untamed symphony, wild and bizarre and somehow still harmonious… but… there was a din, a clamor beginning to take shape. It was small and distant, yet that tiny dissonance was spreading and growing almost imperceptibly. The voices responded with a tone of anxiousness.

“They are worried,” I said. It was more than that. “There is a restlessness. They are anxious.”

His green eyes burned like emerald fire against the dark canvass of his skin. So powerful! The thought radiated from him into me and I felt the awe that this mighty being held for me, a mortal woman… just a mom. “Yes.” He replied out loud. “Many are worried, very worried indeed. The restlessness you sense is so much more dangerous than you can imagine. We are on the verge of an event, the likes of which has not been seen since before the veil was drawn. Perhaps, ever. Soon, the veil shall be cast aside and there will be great confusion and distress. Nothing will remain unchanged. You, Simone, have the ability to act as intercessor. You must mediate between men and others and make them to hear one another. They must hear, as you hear. Only in understanding one another, will they not all be destroyed.”

“So you want me to save the universe?” I raised an eyebrow at him. Maybe I wasn’t insane, but he seemed to be! I grinned a little at the thought. Every shred of the terror I’d felt only a few moments earlier was gone.

“All the universes,” he replied with perfect sincerity.

Are you, too, seeking to save the earth, promote world peace and raise productive citizens without expending too much effort?

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If we work on our goals together, they may be a little easier to achieve!